


The Water Is Wide

by SelkieMarie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mermaids, Mermen, Pirates, Sea, Voltron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelkieMarie/pseuds/SelkieMarie
Summary: In the aftermath of a wreck, a lone ship's boy is left on the open sea.





	1. I Can't Cross Over

The rolling waves threatened the small raft the boy sat on. He was no more than 19, still barely reaching into adulthood. Though, he wasn’t particularly worried about his age at the present moment, more that he was stuck in the middle of the vast blue with nothing but a rickety wooden raft broken off from the parent ship, lost somewhere in the murky waters. A pole stuck out from the support, enough so the boy could lean on it, staring out into the blue, waiting for an end. No more than a ship’s boy left behind, doomed to suffer the wrath of the waves before joining his fellows in the skies above.

The boy looked up to the sky, wondering if his ship mates were staring back, if any had survived. It was all such a rush of screaming, salt water burning the lungs and throat, the heaviness. The heaviness of guilt, fear, and unknowing. Cruel fate had put him there, and he wished that anyone but him, the strong and experienced captain, any of the other superior crew mates, were there to replace him. As if anyone but him would cry at the prospect of certain doom swimming towards him at an unknown rate.

The ocean had turned frightening in the days he had been left to rot, it was a pitch black void, only inches away from him at night. During the day, well, who knew what types of creatures lurked below? God knows he didn't want to find out. He was sick of staring at the water, the thing that was inevitably going to pull him down. If he ever got to land.. well, he'd never take one look at the ocean again! There are plenty of well.. flappers, libraries, roads, trips, adventures, all on land. All safe.. all out of reach.

He looked to the side, spotting something of another colour in the water, floating absentmindedly in the water. Of course, it had no fear of death, no family to go back to, how wonderful would it be to rest such as it.

Curious, the boy crawled to the edge of the raft, reaching out as far as he could, straining his arm to the desperate lengths, painful, just to reach an object that was different to the swirling dark waves and grey sky. He succeeded, pulling out a wooden stick. He sighed, for it was of not much use to him. One of his shipmate’s flutes, an instrument they used for those lively parties the boy himself never participated in. He wiped away the tears streaming down his face yet again, filled with regret. Those parties might’ve been fun, he wondered, if only he took the chance?

His fingers found themselves examining the flute, a carving of the ship crew’s symbol by the mouth piece. Air was not exactly a thing the boy needed to preserve, he blew into the mouthpiece, a wretched sound filling the blank air. He had tuned out the common sounds of the waves by then. The boy blushed, though he knew no one was there to listen, so he tried another note, this time more firmly grasping the holes of the instrument. A steady stream of a single note flowed from the flute. “One.” He named it, startled a little by his own voice. It seemed raspy and tough, far from the smooth and steady voice he owned before.

He took a finger off one of the holes and played again, “Two.”

Another hole, “Three.”

Another. “Four.”

The sounds he made were comforting when faced with the silent droning of the waves. He hummed to himself, thinking a bit. He worked during the hours of the parties, but the wooden ship was quite hollow, and echoed sound like an empty room. He heard the sounds each night, the songs they sang, and some of those moments he hummed along as well. It brought a small smile to his face. He sat there, staring at the flute, as he was sick of staring out at the sea, clamping his fingers over the holes of the instrument for what seemed like hours (Though he had plenty of time) figuring out his favorite tune, the easiest tune to remember in his half dehydrated head. He blew on the flute at times, testing out the tune, muttering stray strings of words just to grasp onto the thought as if it would blow away in the building wind, though for all he knew, it would.

‘But love grows cold; and waxes old..’ He muttered.

‘And fades away, like morning dew.’ It wasn’t the beginning of the song, he knew.

It was unlike him to sing such lyrics. He focused more on the tales of the brave few who cut through the seas, no fear of the churning, dark tides that would swallow you up if you dared stuck a toe in- he shook his head, deciding to focus on the tune. He droned on like the waves with the numbers until his head spun, hurting. He set the flute aside and laid down on the raft, barely fitting onto his small support from cold uncertainty. He held the flute close to his chest, closing his eyes. They were dry and hurt to shut. God, what would he do? Was drowning as honorable a way to go as being slain by an enemy ship? Were his comrades even above him as he laid there? Despite not being the most social by any means on the ship, there, on that raft, he felt truly alone.

Drifting off to sleep, he wrapped himself around the pole. He had been awake there for a few days already, and sleep closed in swiftly as he could keep his eyes open no longer.

‘I know not how I sink or swim’  
\----

He struggled to open his eyes, as they saved the last bit of rest they were allowed before being introduced to the harsh sun once again. Normally, it would be nicer to see the sun and a clear sky rather than clouds and rolling waves for the fear of destroying the one haven he had left (granted it was small), though the sun was unusually strong and beat down on him. He didn’t have any covers either. Half his shirt was torn off in the wreck, and his pants weren’t going to help anything. His skin was already turning red and stinging painfully as he had slept past sunrise. He looked down, the water was calm enough. He placed the flute on the raft and dipped his feet into the water. It was less terrifying when it was calm. And daytime. He slipped into the water, letting the cold ocean water calm his burns. The salt stung a bit, but felt good in a way. He took a deep breath and dove beneath the raft, staying there in the cover of the darkness, floating.

Suddenly, he felt something brush his leg. Scaly. He tried to let out a scream, but the salt water choked him, panicking him even more. He thrashed around for a bit, trying to find the edge before he felt hands wrapping around his legs. Even more frightened, he kicked and struggled, pulling himself onto the raft. In his panic, he accidentally knocked off the flute. 

He coughed up water before yelling at the ocean angrily, it had taken his comrades. They had floated to the top, he just knew it, ready to pull him down to join them. It wasn’t an honorable death, him and the crew he grew up with were condemned, cursed, and he was only alive to be toyed with before finally being pulled below. He tried to scream again, but all that came out was a raspy squeal of sorts. He choked, unable to cry. He was left alone of even his own voice. He shut his eyes tight. He wouldn’t accept this fate, He wouldn’t accept-

“Is this yours?” He heard a new voice. It wasn’t his own.


	2. And Neither Have I Wings to Fly

The boy tried to scream again, no sound escaping his lungs yet again as he whirled around on the raft, nearly falling out again. He stared at the source of the voice, backed up as much as he could allow. There was another boy in the water, resting his arms on the edge of the raft, waving the flute in the air. The boys’ first instinct was to keep away, this… thing, definitely not a real boy, was just trying to lure him down.

“Calm down, mate, I’m trying to help you!” It said, annoyed, “Don’t know what this thing is, but you were sleeping with it.. so it’s not rubbish I’m guessing.” It kept talking.

The boy tried to speak, to yell at it, but his throat stung, keeping him from speaking, much to his annoyance.

“Ah, your voice is gone?” It spoke again, “Here, then.” It tossed the flute over to the boy, who caught it and held it tight.

“What is it?” It asked, pointing at the flute, “It’s all hollow, so I bet you can’t hurt much with it, what’s the use of a hollow stick?”

The boy narrowed his eyes at the ‘it’. Though, it wouldn’t hurt to show him, he supposed. He only needed air for the flute, not voice. He placed his hands over the holes and blew into the instrument. A steady note once again filled the air, which very much seemed to frighten the creature that had originally asked him about it. It jumped back, to the boy’s surprise, revealing a fish’s tail on the opposite end of the creature. It was a merman. The ‘merman’ poked his head out of the water, only to see the boy’s astonished face, pointing at it. The boy thought that these creatures only lived in legend, for he was one to only believe the things he saw for himself, though there, in front of him, was a merman. 

“That’s an… instrument.. That makes real, loud, loud sound..” The merman shivered, coming a bit closer, “Mind giving me more of a warning?”

‘You asked me to show you!’ The boy tried to say, glaring at it, though of course his voice was absent. If he could speak, he’d give the merman a real show!

“Sorry, mate. Can’t hear a word.” It smiled slyly, leaning on the raft again, “So.. I can simply talk your ear loose until you.. well, either find land or, y’know.. die.” He said bluntly, “I’ve seen both happen before.”

The boy froze a bit, angry at the merman, even though he knew the truth himself. He’d probably be just as angry if it told him everything was going to be fine and left him to the waves, at least he had a bit of company, even if it wasn’t human persay.

“You may call me or… know me as Lance.” it continued, “I’d ask you your name but.. Y’know.”

The boy coughed a bit, which hurt. He moved closer to ‘Lance’, and summed up all the strength in his lungs just to rasp out his name.

“Keith, call me Keith.” He started to cough immediately after, retreating again.

“Well, your voice doesn’t sound particularly well, but despite, nice to meet your acquaintance for however much longer you live!” Lance smiled in a goofy manner. 

Keith hated it, being reminded of death.

“So, Keith, you’re apart of those large vessels! How else would you be drifting here though, I can’t imagine why! Did you get thrown off? I’ve seen a few get thrown off. Though those men are normally scruffy, or old, or.. Not like you. And they normally don’t have a small vessel with them..” Lance tilted his head.

“It sank.” Keith rasped.

“The vessel??” Lance asked, eyes wide. “You must be lying! They’re made of hard, foreign things.. With sounds and vibrations blasting out all through them.. Oh I remember some of the tunes… some of the sounds seemed similar to that wooden thing.” He pointed at the flute.

Keith tilted his head, Lance seemed to like to ramble. He pitied all the other men who had to have their ears talked out before they died. Though from what he was hearing, they were all probably just sods who committed some crime that led to them being thrown off the ship. Murder, treason, etc. Maybe they deserved it. Now that he thought about it, maybe that’s why Lance is so morbid.

“He shot his first mate in the hold one day,  
He said ‘I don't give a damn!  
If I don't kill someone now and then,  
You'll forget who I am!’"

Lance was repeating the words with a slight musical hum to his voice, trying to remember the tune, Keith supposed. The song was some old shantie about Blackbeard, another morbid topic. Keith was sick of it. 

“You don’t like?” Lance gave another sly smile, “I figured you’d like. Make you feel more at home? The other sailors liked it…” He sighed. “What will it take to make you feel better? Hmm?” They stayed in silence for awhile, Lance staring at Keith, which was quite uncomfortable for him. 

“I bet you look nice when you smile~” Lance piped up.

“Wha-” Keith looked at Lance as if he were insane, as far as he knew, he was.

“Well.. those sailors looked so much more alive, smiling than crying. Some did manage to float away on vessels like you.” He looked up.

“Maybe if you thought of a nicer song..” Keith rasped.

“A nicer song? None of the others.. Like.. you mean a..” Lance pondered a bit, and shrugged, “I like all of the songs..”

Keith shrugged.

The rest of the day was rather peaceful, in contrast to the waves, Lance never stopped talking. A new sound filled the air, and the ocean didn’t seem so lonely any longer. He wanted to ask Lance why he couldn’t just push him to safety, though how far out to sea was he? He wanted to ask Lance about his life, about if there were others of his kind. He wanted to ask Lance how long he’d been watching him. He wanted to ask a lot of things. Though what use would the answers be to a dead man?

He eventually tuned out Lance’s talking as he did the waves as the sun was extinguished by the vast waters, finally a night where stars shimmered through the heavens, the moon hanging above with its beautiful markings and spots. Keith felt more at peace then than ever, and he dropped to his side, falling into a deep sleep.

Lance, who noticed this, smiled and watched him, fascinated.


	3. Give Me a Boat That Can Carry Two

Keith’s eyes peeled open. His skin stung with dryness and peeling, and the sun beat down on that red skin with intensity. He struggled to take in a single wheezing breath with his lungs stinging pins and needles. He laid there, staring at the sky, away from the sun hoping it would die down. In laying down still, he noticed the stillness of the raft. Even when the water was at its calmest, it still gently swayed back and forth…

He tested his arms and legs, stretching to the ends of his fingers. It had all gone numb and sore from sleeping at strange angles in an attempt to keep on the raft. The raft… he felt splinters on his back, and fingers, and legs.. but no raft. The surface was stable, hot little particles that stuck to the skin and clothing. Sand…

Sand..

He suddenly sat right up, which proved to be a bad idea. He laid back down in pain, but turned his head around. He was on a little island. A very, very small island, most likely a mile long and wide, and through the small forest of trees he could see the water on the other side. 

He smiled, laughing a bit, though painful and raspy. He had a chance, and as far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t waste it. He, this time slowly, got himself up. It still hurt, everything hurt, but it would hurt a lot more if he didn’t move. As he stumbled across the island, he thought to himself of the old crew. The captain would take part in regular checks of the crew, especially for the ship boys. They’d all line up, and the captain would make sure they were all at peak of health. He was.. especially critical of them. It was terrifying when one of the guys weren’t up to standards, and the washes were even worse though… at least they had fresh water then.

Limping across, found that towards the middle of the island was a dense canopy of trees. The shade calmed his skin, and he thanked the heavens for the cool grass that followed. Walking farther, he felt rocks under his feet, pleasantly warm, as the bottom of his feet had not been burned. As he kept walking, the stones became cooler.. and cooler.. and wet, slippery with moss. In fact, so slippery, that he failed to keep up in his delusional state. He slipped on the rocks, falling down hard. The breath was knocked out of his lungs and his backside felt sore as he cursed. 

‘At least I’m not on water.. Water..’ He thought to himself, opening his eyes. 

There was a stream in front of him. Turning his head, it started up at a waterfall, which fell into a pool. It was small, but it looked quite deep. He practically crawled over to the pool, throwing himself into it. Cool water greeted him as he sank into it. It was smoother and less rough than saltwater, though it still had a very faint scent of the ocean. It was fresh, well as far as he could tell. It was better than rotting out in the sun, though he knew he’d have to go back out sometime. To find out what to eat, where to sleep, the animals, fish..

His mind snapped back to.. well it might’ve not been the day before. He wondered how long he’d been out. The merman. He dismissed it as some sort of crazy hallucination of his dehydrated mind. Even if he was an illusion, Keith was glad it was a calm and friendly one, and not something that would have caused him to panic to the point of jumping off the raft to lord knows where. Yeah, he kind of missed him.

He let himself sit in the cold water for a bit longer before reluctantly getting out. Thank god he only had shorts, with the sunburn he had, putting on a shirt would be hell. Even letting his arms at his sides stung terribly, and his skin felt stiff and hard to move. He had experienced sunburn before, but nothing this bad. He didn’t look forward to the next few days with any excitement. However, he had to get to work, beat sundown. 

Walking around the island, there were many trees… rocks… water? There were palm trees with coconuts of course, but with his sunburn, he couldn’t imagine climbing up without a lot of pain. He did know how to fish but, again, with his aching hands, he wouldn’t be able to fasten a proper spear or anything of the sort. Plus, he was still very wary of the ocean. There were birds and wildlife, but he couldn’t think of any traps or lures.. Or anything to kill the animals with.

On the edges of the beach, he found some old barrels, some were rotting terribly, and none of them had anything in them. Keith still salvaged the least aged ones and dragged them over to the canopy. There was other garbage he could salvage, but he’d have to venture deeper into the rocky-slippery-though shallow, sea. He sighed, staring out to the waters. The sun was losing it’s grip on the sky, and he didn’t have much time.

He took a while to gather the dryest bits of driftwood he could find around, and piled the all in an area near the canopy, far enough away that it wouldn’t be a fire hazard. He sat by the pile for a bit, trying to remember how to start a fire. He perked up, grabbing a stable stick near him and setting a slab of driftwood down. He held the stick in between his hands and started to spin it around by rubbing both sides of it. After about ten seconds he recoiled, cursing at the pain of his sunburn. He wasn’t able to do anything, was he? He opted for pulling off one of the abnormally large leaves off of a low hanging tree, and trying to sleep in the grass close to the waterfall. His eyes struggled to stay shut. He had explored the entire island but… even in the evening light, the cool breeze, he felt scared. To be alone yet again for who knows how long. Until a band of pirates comes along and takes him away for a future of being chained to a wall, doing simple and repetitive tasks until it drives him to jump off the ledge of the ship?! For all the morbid thoughts Lance had, he was just as bad really.

Lance… the hallucination, of course. How silly would it be to think a mythical creature had a name as ordinary as ‘Lance’? All of those thoughts.. those morbid, terrible thoughts must’ve been his. If he starved himself to near death, he bet he would’ve seen something just as mystical, in fact, he might be seeing that sort of thing soon if the sunburn didn’t calm down anytime soon. Maybe he’d see a centaur? Hah, that’d be the day. A Phoenix? Avian type thing? His mouth watered a bit. He hadn’t eaten in at least a week. He needed to have something soon.

Listing these things in his mind calmed him down a bit. He was back in reality, and he had some sort of a grip on his situation. He at least didn’t have to worry about drowning anymore. Maybe his mates weren’t against him? Maybe they were keeping him alive. He did miss them, for how little he spoke. He observed a lot, listened a lot, etc. He knew everyone’s name but nobody remembered his, well, except for those that needed favours from him, mostly filling in for chores and such. He always did it, as he didn’t think he had much else to do. Such a normal and often calming situation for him ripped away by the waves.

Stories of mermaids, his mind suddenly drifted to just that. They were creatures of misfortune and bad luck, of course but.. how did he ever find himself trusting the one he encountered? He grumbled a bit, ‘It was a hallucination, that’s why.’.

He drifted off, and as he did, he was bothered by the fact that he couldn’t in fact convince himself the merman wasn’t real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait! I have a lot to work on right now with art and such.


	4. And Boat Shall Row, My Love and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith, worn down with sunburn and a new sense of dread, tries to set up and survive on the island he's been washed up onto.

He woke, happy to be greeted with the cold dew of the grass treating his burned skin, of which was still an angry red, but stung less. The canopy protected him, draping him in a pleasant shade. He sat up, his throat feeling particularly better due to the presence of fresh water towards the center of the island. His hands felt the cool grass, and he sighed with a particular relief. He might’ve been sunburned, bitten by mosquitos and such, and overall quite uncomfortable, but he was alive. He thanked his comrades from the fallen ship quickly before standing up slowly, as to not feel the pain of the burns as badly as he already did. 

He walked over to the stream, blinking, as he was afraid to rub his eyes just in case of, again, the burn he’d feel by any little contact. 

With no hesitation, Keith jumped straight into the pool, and waded to under the waterfall. He felt quite upset that the cool water was simply just a temporary relief, and that as soon as he opted to leave the stream, the burns would start to sting yet again. 

He wanted the convenience of leaving to a doctor and getting aloe.. Or at least he thought it was called that. He shook his head a bit, yeah, yeah it was called Aloe. It made sunburn disappear, practically. Keith shook his head a bit, the sunburn hit even his scalp at that point. The hair that naturally fell on his head irritated him. How strange really, he thought to himself, that the sun that lazily hung in the sky, seemed to have such fun blazing down on the poor sods that simply sit in it’s rays. Including him.

Reluctantly, he stirred from his precious spot in the pool, walking off the cool pebbles..

Onto the cool grass..

Reaching the beach.

The coarse sand was a rude awakening. It felt hot and uncomfortable, and he found himself wishing for clouds, rain, anything to cover up that blistering sun. He looked around a bit.. Nothing had washed up on the beach. He half hoped by the next morning something like a barrel full of bread would have washed up.. It was a stupid fantasy. He was delirious to think anything would be that easy.. But after the waterfall, he supposed he felt anything was possible at that point. And the merman… or illusion.

He was losing his mind, wasn’t he?

Well, he decided to get out of the sun. His best bet was to look for anything to eat in the canopy. He didn’t exactly know where he was, since the plants that he did know about were strictly regional, well, he guessed that they were regional. Mostly because most of the plants on this island seemed so fantastical and unreal. One of the ship’s residents was particularly interested in plants and agriculture, he guessed it was just in case they found an island such as this. The long foreign names of the exotic plants he constantly rambled on about.. There was no way he would ever be able to remember those. He didn’t even know what they looked like. 

God, why didn’t he think to remember last night? That there were plants on the island? They stretched all around in their fantastical colour, though that could’ve been dulled by the poor lighting of the evening, or his dizziness before he found that heavenly pool. The pool.

The pool had these tall weeds, like sunflowers, but without the flowers. In fact, the stalks reminded him a bit of leeks. He rushed back to the pool, wincing a bit at the pain that came from running.

What seemed like a simple obstacle beforehand became an immediate possibility in his eyes. They were long stalks with a brown root coming out the top. While he would have to worry about the colours and parts, among other things with fruit and such, these, these he knew. They were long stalks they found in a swamp on one of their land crusades. They had been in this sort of land before, not the aesthetics of course, but the plants were similar. He felt like he was in a sort of dream, really. For the short time he had been on this Earth, he had seen most of the discovered world at that point. Most of the time he was on the ship, but the views. The views he always longed to explore rather than be stuck on that dull ship.

Though, of course, it wasn’t a dream. He ached with the pains and fears and struggles as he had for all of his waking life but, he wasn’t about to give up. Funny how this simple, odd-looking plant could bring him so much hope with just the simple prospect of living another day to explore, live, and to simply breath the fresh air. Funny how the whisper of the waves that once seemed foreboding and harrowing now seemed fresh, and once again filled with possibilities that he remembered thinking of when he first started out at sea as a ship’s boy.

He smiled to himself, grabbing one of the stalks, quite curious. He gave it a great tug, when the stalk easily gave way, causing him to crash to the ground. He sat up, dazed, with the stalk in his hand. He readily examined it, finding that the bottom was exactly as he thought. From green at the top of the stalk, it steadily turned to white at the bottom. Much, much like a leek or some other vegetable. He was a little scared of the possibility of it being poisonous, cause god, what did he know about vegetation. As far as he knew, most things that grew in the wild were ready to kill him. Why did everything have to be so complicated..

He broke off the end roots of the stalk that felt most like a leak. He felt around it a bit, finding that it separated into layers like an onion. He picked away the top parts, which felt very spongy and unappealing, and collected the middles as he started to pull more stalks out of the ground and do the same. There were so many of them, and with the ones farther away from the pool, they were rotted, but had maggots crawling in them.

The average person might find the thought disgusting, but at least some forms of survival knowledge was passed along on the ship, and the fact that maggots were a good protein source was common knowledge. However, none had claimed to try it before. Well, except for the botanist man of the ship. Despite this, he had possibly found food. Now was for the fire.

The fire would be the hardest part. He had the stray planks of wood, but friction was needed, and he found it difficult to rub a stick in between his hands for five seconds without the sunburn making his life that much more difficult. 

He sat down in front of the planks and the sticks he laid down the previous night and huffed in frustration. His hands did feel a bit better, but he feared the pain of friction between his hands and the stick. The process would set his hands on fire before he set anything else ablaze. 

Though, he was starving. Starving to death seemed worse than his hands hurting a bit. 

With confidence, he picked up the stick, and pressed it down onto a plank. He took a deep breath before starting to rub the stick in between his hands to try and induce a fire. He shut his eyes tight, it really, really hurt. Keith gritted his teeth as he kept on for what seemed like forever. He held his breath while trying, before cursing to himself a bit.

Funny how cursing dulled the pain, even a little bit.

Eventually though, Keith smelled something. It was a choking, musty, warm scent. Smoke. He stopped, dropping the stick on the plank, which was smoking. His eyes wide, adrenaline took hold as he dropped down and frantically blew on the plank, trying to get the fire on. Eventually, the smoke became a tiny ember, which grew as he piled more dry planks onto it. For once he thanked the dry spell that kept the planks and ground from getting wet. Though, he was a bit nervous that the fire would spread onto the grass, so he quickly got up to find some rocks.

There were tons of rocks leading through the creek that led up to the pool. Though, when he actually went to pick one up, he recoiled immediately, cursing in pain. He sat, a bit shocked, and looked at his hands. They were worn, and the already damaged skin was torn at some parts, which were bleeding, though not heavily. He sighed, feeling a bit dizzy. Keith knew he needed the rocks, he would go to the pool after.

He gathered up the rocks, trying his best not to drop them out of immediate instinct due to the worsening ache of his hands, dropping them around the fire. When he was pretty sure the fire wouldn’t jump out and burn the whole island down, he ran as fast as he could to the pool.

Once again jumping in, he yet again felt relief. The red of his blood stained the pool for a bit before it was carried away down the creek and eventually into the ocean with the twisting and turning waterway. Again, why did everything have to be so complicated?

After about half an hour, Keith emerged from the pool, shaking his head of the water and heading back to the fire. He had tried his best to gather the things he collected into the large leaves he found around the canopy, though he was a bit annoyed to find the maggots had eaten a lot of the leaf he put them in. He should have killed them first.. but with what? He needed some kind of weapon or something of the sort..

A stick would work enough. He stabbed one of the stalks he tore apart earlier and stuck it over the fire, stabbing the stick into the ground so he didn’t have to hold it up. Even holding things hurt. He collected the maggots and looked at them with curiosity. They looked quite disgusting. The little things were a deathly pale white with creepy black beady eyes. The last thing Keith wanted to do was eat one. Though he needed to. 

Picking the smallest out of the squirming pile, he brought it up to his face. The little thing was squirming around as he picked it up by the tail, and Keith swallowed nervously before throwing it into his mouth.

One crunch, and it stopped moving. It was gritty and sour, but as soon as he swallowed, which he struggled with at first, he found the prospect of eating another a bit easier. Three others went down before he figured he couldn’t force down another. He looked up to the stalk over the fire, figuring it had been torched enough. He took the stick off, not daring to touch the burning hot plant for fear of his poor hands.

Keith sniffed the stalk a bit, figuring the heat probably would have taken care of anything that might kill him. Blowing on it a bit, he took a bite. It was bland, but edible, and available.

He cooked and ate the stalks until he was full, which was not very long. The lack of any food for such a long while shrank his stomach to the point where he could only handle a tiny portion of food. Stretching, he stayed by the fire a bit longer before his sunburn couldn’t take the dryness anymore. He needed another stay at the pool.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Keith walked out onto the beach, holding up one of the giant leaves above his head to try and avoid as much sun as possible. He looked out to the ocean, examining the horizon as he walked along the beach on the edge of the water. The sun was raised high in the sky as it was the afternoon around then. Well, he figured it was. No way in hell was he looking at the sun.

As he stared out onto the horizon of the ocean, looking for any other islands, lights, ships, and sign of life, his foot hit something as he tripped and fell over on that something. He came crashing onto the ground with a thud, and the leaf fell on top of him and whatever he tripped over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this chapter was boring at all with the long paragraphs about stalks and him constantly diving back into the pool. I did a lot of research about sunburn, native plants and bugs from the area I'm basing this story off of, it was fun to write for me at least. As it is the longest chapter I've written. There will be some more mostly character driven things later


	5. Oh, Love Is Gentle and Love Is Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith figures out what it was he tripped over.

Keith’s eyes blinked open, the coarse and harsh sand burning his skin. He scooted off whatever he had fallen over, pushing the large leaf off as well. His eyes adjusted to the sun again as he looked over to whatever he tripped over.

 

It was a person, no, he blinked again, getting closer.

 

It was the merman, Lance, was it? Keith’s eyes widened before he rubbed them, thinking it was a dream, but as soon as he opened them again, he was still there. Keith pinched himself, checked his pulse, everything he could think of before scooting up to Lance. The merman was clearly passed out, his chest rising up and down with great difficulty. He was covered in cuts and bruises and his skin was partially stained with blood.

 

Keith looked down at him with pity, before realizing that while the sun might be bad for him at the moment, it was probably detrimental to a merman, especially figuring he had probably been there awhile. Keith, not strong enough to lift up Lance completely, grabbed Lance’s arms and started to drag him to the pool, after all, he wasn’t going to just throw him back into the ocean. That’d be.. not good.

 

He dragged Lance through the canopy, occasionally accidentally bumping him into rocks, but making especially sure he didn’t get Lance too close to the fire pit. Lance at some points made pained grunting noises, which did worry Keith, but relieved him a little bit at the same time knowing at least Lance was still alive. He finally got to the pool, dragging Lance in, and barely holding him up above the water. He knew Lance wouldn’t drown, but he didn’t want to lose track of him. Blood, this time Lance’s, flowed down the stream once again as the water cleaned his wounds.

 

After a while, Lance’s chest seemed to be rising and falling a little easier, his body not being attacked by the harsh sun. Keith’s hands were starting to prune but, he wanted to stay until, or if, Lance woke up. Though, through the time he waited, holding onto his breath, he got to examine the merman a bit closer. He remembered Lance’s tanned skin, and the brown short hair, but not exactly in detail at all.. and he was pretty sure Lance didn’t have so many cuts and bruises before. His tail though, was fantastical, really. Intensely blue scales, bright and practically glowing, shimmering when exposed to the partial light peeking through the trees of the canopy. What seemed like delicate paint strokes of a more pastel blue swirled in patterns down the sides leading to the bottom fins. The whole appendage almost looked like attire itself. Though, Keith felt it would look much more royal if it weren’t stained with blood.

 

At some point, Keith waded to the shallow side of the pool, laying Lance by the cool rocks so he didn’t go floating away. Keith sat next to him, drying off in the warm breeze. He looked over at Lance again. Was this a hallucination? It seemed so, with something so fantastical. Were there more like Lance? Well, probably. Keith sat there, staring at him. Wondering if Lance would ever even wake up.

 

It was only a few minutes later when he noticed the merman’s eyes slowly blinking open, as his arms struggled to raise up, as if they didn’t belong to him as he rubbed his temple, groaning a bit.

 

“Uh..” Keith started, “Lance, right?”

 

“Huh?!” Lance jumped, sitting up at the sudden voice, flinching a bit at due to his injuries. “Who’s asking-?” His head whirled around to Keith, “You’re that guy!” Lance’s eyes lit up.

 

“Huh?” Keith asked, confused.

 

“With the noise making tool!” Lance smiled, “You’re actually alive! I-I’m actually alive!” He stuttered a bit before looking at the ground, and then over to the pool.

 

“Yeah.. I think..” Keith rubbed his head.

 

“What do you mean?” Lance blinked, “You’re dead? Am I dead? Am I dreaming?” He rambled a bit.

 

“I mean, I-I don’t know.” Keith looked to the side, “I just found you on the beach burning alive, well, near dead.”

 

“Lucky is it that I washed up here? Washed up at all in fact, wonder how far we were from the island…” Lance scratched his chin a bit, looking at the pool. “Could you help me back into the water?” He blinked at Keith.

 

Keith blinked a bit himself before snapping out of a bit of a trance and getting up. “Yeah, course.” He grabbed Lance’s hands and slowly dragged him to the pool.

 

“Ow-owow...OW!” Lance complained as he was dragged over the rocks, “Can you at least pick me up?!”

 

“I can barely drag you along as much as it is!” Keith said with a bit of annoyance. “Just take it for a little while!” He finally got Lance to the pool, dragging him one last time before accidentally letting go and falling into the pool himself. Lance was flung into the pool with Keith, though composed himself much more quickly and easily, sighing, “This is much better.”

 

Keith surfaced, poking his head from the water. He glared at Lance, a little annoyed that he didn’t help him when he fell into the pool, though, he shook the annoyance away, realizing how petty that sounded. “Glad to hear.” He responded simply, dragging himself out of the pool. “I’m going to-”

 

“What? You’re leaving already?” Lance pouted a bit.

 

“I held you for god knows how long making sure you didn’t knock your bloody head on something!” Keith threw his arms up. “I dragged your back-off from the beach!”

 

“Well.. I don’t remember all that, so it doesn’t count!” Lance huffed.

 

“It so doe- UGH!” Keith glared at Lance, “Good night.” He said firmly before walking away. How could he ever possibly deal with such a self centered, clingy creature? He barely could stop himself from ripping the guy apart after five minutes of talking to him! He sighed, calming himself down. Lance hadn’t even thanked him once. For god sake. Keith walked back to the fire, sitting down and watching as the day came to a close and the golden light faded from the canopy.

 

He could hear Lance yelling. The pool was a short ways away, after all, the canopy was rather small. He sighed, figuring Lance would quiet down some time or another. He laid down in his makeshift bed of leaves staring at the night sky. As he predicted, Lance soon calmed down and stopped yelling, thankfully. Keith soon drifted off to sleep to the gentle hum of the canopy.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the short length.


End file.
